


On a Night Like Tonight

by angellwings



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, New Year's Eve, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 09:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellwings/pseuds/angellwings
Summary: After their first week outside the bunker, Lucy and Wyatt spend New Years Eve together...and it's a disaster.





	On a Night Like Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** So, here we are with yet another one shot that got away from me. I intended 5k words and it ended up just over 10k. Oops? But I am obsessed with post-bunker new couple Lyatt so here's my attempt at exploring the first week outside the Bunker. It might be overdramatic trash.
> 
> Thank you so much to **katertots** for helping with this fic! She was my sounding board and helped me pace this and keep everyone in character! Thank you, my lovely! You're a god send!
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Angellwings

* * *

" _I'm speechless,_

_You already know that you're my weakness._

_After all this time I'm just as nervous,_

_Every time you walk into the room."_

_-Speechless, Dan + Shay_

* * *

It's one week after leaving the bunker and everything is weird. They all know there's going to be an adjustment period but none of them anticipate the awkward reality of reentry.

Wyatt has it easier than the rest of them. His first assignment with Christopher is managing the clean up for the Time Travel mission: rounding up stray Rittenhouse members, classifying certain documents, helping the team establish cover stories. All the little tasks involved with wrapping the mission belong to him and Christopher. Not only that but he's used to assignments ending. He knows there's a transition phase. Although, even for him this transition is difficult. He can imagine how much more difficult it is for civilians like Rufus and Lucy.

He knows Lucy is struggling with the loose ends of her old life, the life her mother ripped her away from the night of the explosion at Mason Industries. Her childhood home is a place of lies, manipulation, and control. She's living there but hoping to sell it fast and purposefully spending as little time as possible within those walls.

Every time he calls her she is out somewhere, doing something. She's catching up with old colleagues, reviving old connections in publishing, auditing classes, and basically keeping herself busy at every moment of every day. She thought she was too late to teach for the spring semester and made plans to start working on a book, but in the last few days she's been fielding pleading calls from Stanford. They had a professor drop out due to a family emergency and need someone to fill in right away. They want a Preston.

The problem is that Lucy isn't sure _she_ wants _Stanford_. She avoids their calls all week. He watches her decline at least three phone calls during one lunch date alone. Which is why he's surprised by a question during their latest phone call.

He is on his lunch and calls her to catch up and double check their plans with Rufus and Jiya the following night. He listens as she checks her mail and unlocks her front door. She talks about her book on Alice Paul and her friend in publishing that's already asking for pages as she opens the door. Then she stops, abruptly. He hears her heavy sigh as if she's in the room next to him, feels it too.

"Lucy?" He asks in concern.

"Are you doing anything New Years Eve?" She asks after a lingering moment of silence.

"I was planning on doing whatever you're doing," he answers honestly.

She pauses and when she speaks next her tone is warmer. He imagines a soft grin spreading across her face. "Do you feel like being my date to a black tie party? It won't be the most exciting event ever but I would appreciate the company."

"If it's not exciting then why are you going?" He asks as he furrows his brow.

"It's a fundraising benefit being thrown in my mother's memory by some of the big shots of Stanford. The proceeds are being given to various charities fighting childhood illiteracy. I have to go," she tells him. "And I would feel much better about it if you went with me."

"If you want me then I'm there," he promises. He feels himself wince instinctively as he considers the dress code. "Black tie, though?"

She chuckles and there is no mistaking the flirtatious nature of her voice. "Oh come on, I happen to know first hand how you look in black tie. You'll be fine. In fact, I'd wager you'll be the most impressive arm candy in the entire room."

"I feel like I should be offended by that."

"You mean by the insinuation that you're my trophy boyfriend?" She asks with a light laugh. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"I do now," he replies with a smirk.

"Besides, you're forgetting that black tie means I have to dress up too and given that its New Years Eve I feel like the event calls for something slinky and black."

His eyebrows rise as he imagines Lucy in a long clingy black gown and he feels a lump form in his throat and his mouth go dry. He's seen her in lots of outfits over the decades - _centuries_ \- but nothing quite like what she's describing. He supposes the closest he could imagine is the waitress uniform from The Sands in the 1960s but even that probably doesn't hold a candle to what she has in mind. Time travel taught him that Lucy Preston is a rare woman who looks phenomenally beautiful in every manner of dress. Elaborate gowns or trousers and cowboy boots, it doesn't matter. Hell, even those Army Green coveralls from Korea suited her remarkably well. So, the idea of her in formal wear from their own time is already causing his heart to beat erratically.

"Sold, ma'am," he answers. "What time should I pick you up?"

"Nine o'clock will do just fine, thank you," she tells him with a knowing laugh.

The rest of the weekend passes quietly. They have dinner and drinks with Rufus and Jiya and hear all about their progress moving in to Jiya's apartment and getting together the game plan for their start up. Their friends are brilliant and passionate and no one has any doubts about whether or not they'll succeed.

That night Lucy goes home with him. She takes her shoes off and hangs her purse on the hook beside the door and then slips down the hall to his bedroom while he makes a pot of coffee.

When the door opens a few minutes later, Wyatt no longer needs the coffee to stay awake. He's found his second wind with a single glance at the legs peeking out from one his flannel shirts.

"I forgot to bring anything to sleep in," Lucy says with a sinful smirk. "This okay?"

He nods and swallows thickly. "So okay that I'm thinking of giving you every single flannel shirt in my closet."

"But if you give them to me then this isn't anywhere near as much fun," she tells him with a grin as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses herself against him.

"Uh huh," he says with a crooked grin. "So, it's the thrill of stealing my clothes that you like and not the clothes themselves? Never took you for a klepto, Preston."

"I'm offended, _Logan_. I am not a klepto. Yes, okay, somehow, I don't know how, a certain blue flannel ended up in my things when we moved out of the bunker. But I didn't steal it. It must have gotten mixed in with my laundry." She feigns cluelessness and lifts her shoulders casually. "Anyone could have done that."

"Right, _anyone_." He gives her a disbelieving look and squeezes her ass playfully. "That's convincing. Come on, babydoll, you can lie better than that."

"Oh, so now I'm a kleptomaniac _and_ a liar. Gee, thanks, schweetheart," Lucy says with an unashamed grin. Her expression conflicts with the denial in her words and he can't help but find it appealing. "I appreciate the support."

"You're guilty and we both know it," he replies with a smirk.

"Fine," she huffs half heartedly as she steps out of his arms. "Then I guess I should give the shirt back."

He's about to protest when it suddenly clicks. Her delicate hands are reaching for the buttons and popping them open one by one as he realizes she's been playing a game with him all along. Her heated gaze latches on to his as she reaches the last button. In the next moment the shirt falls to floor, pooling in a pile of plaid flannel at her feet.

"Happy now?" She asks him with a cheeky smile.

"Extremely," he answers before reaches across the distance yanks her to him, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss.

What follows is as close to heaven as he ever thinks he'll get. He isn't used to having so many nights as perfect as the handful he's stolen with Lucy Preston wrapping herself around him.

Sometimes the happiness and contentment he feels is unsettling. He's lived with guilt and pain for so long that anything other than that feels like cheating at a game he's meant to lose. It's wrong and he knows it, but it's there nonetheless. In the dark of the night, with the woman he loves wrapped securely in his arms, he still occasionally feels as though he hasn't really earned a life with her. He feels undeserving and sadly that's nothing new. Not to him.

There are a lot of things in his life he feels like he doesn't deserve and Lucy tops the list.

He takes her home the next morning after they have brunch at a restaurant near The Preston residence. He almost calls it the Preston Home but stops himself. That house is not a home. Not to Lucy. During brunch an older woman stops by their table to say hello. Turns out she's The Preston's next door neighbor, Mrs. Turner, and has been for as long as they've lived there.

"I'll be sad to see you go," the elderly woman says as she grabs Lucy's hand and pats it gently. "But with the both of you on sabbatical until recently that house sat neglected. It's about time, I think. And I can't imagine staying in that big house all alone." The old woman's other hand rests briefly on Wyatt's shoulder and gives him a squeeze before she winks at Lucy. "Good thing you have him around, hm?"

Wyatt's eyes widen and glance from Mrs. Turner to Lucy. He barely knew this woman. What does she know about his relationship with Lucy? But Lucy doesn't flinch or even wince.

She chuckles and smiles fully, baring her teeth, as she replies. "Oh yes, it's a very good thing I have him around, Mrs. Turner."

The reality is that he's barely stepped foot in the Preston house since the day he took Lucy home less than a week prior. How can he when she's barely there? So the phrase 'have him around' seems to be a bit of a stretch. Mrs. Turner says her goodbyes, and squeezes Wyatt's shoulder one last time before she walks away from their table.

They finish brunch and leave the restaurant hand in hand. He pulls into the drive and as he shifts into park her hand skims up his bicep, over his shoulder, and then comes to rest on his neck. Unconsciously caressing his skin with her thumb.

"You should come in," she tells him softly. "I have plenty of coffee and...I could use the company."

He angles himself to face her and feels her hand shift upward to move across his cheek. "I don't know how you do it," he says as he points to the house. "I know you've been keeping busy but even then...I don't think I could do it."

"I don't do it well if that makes you feel any better," she answers with a sigh as her fingers continue to absently move across his neck. "I stay out until it's time to get ready for bed and then I go home to wash off the makeup and put on pajamas before collapsing into bed. Most days I make sure to keep myself so busy that I'm too tired to think about my surroundings before falling asleep at night."

"Most days?" He asks as he tugs her hand away from his neck and holds it in his. "What about the other days?"

She bites her bottom lip apprehensively and then tries to shrug it off.

He squeezes her hand and quirks an unyielding brow at her. He's not letting this go. "Lucy?"

"Let's just say that there's a reason I've been able to complete a surprising amount of pages for my Alice Paul book in less than a week," she replies softly. "It gives me something to focus on."

"You know you don't have to live in the house to sell it," he reminds her. He's said that to her at least once a day since they left the Bunker.

She takes a deep breath and nods slowly. "I know." Her eyes meet his and he sees both resignation and determination shining in them when they do. "But I have to face _her_ sometime. I can't hide from her memory forever. This is the best way I know to confront who she _actually_ was versus what I knew of her. It's hard, but it feels necessary."

He gets it. He does, and he's amazed by her strength. But her eyes are unfocused now and her stare is hollow and he's afraid he's derailed the lightness of their morning.

He leans across the space between them and presses a kiss to her temple before grinning against the shell of her ear. "You couldn't have just broken her favorite antique or something? Or, I don't know, made a bonfire out of the contents of her closet?"

He watches the corner of her mouth tilt upward before a soft rolling chuckle escapes her and she turns her head to meet his forehead with hers. "Or driven her car into a lake like some reckless hothead I know?"

"Hey, I couldn't exactly afford therapy so that was the next best thing," he replies with a smirk.

"Mhm, well, not everyone can use destruction of property as an outlet, Logan," Lucy tells him before she places a chaste kiss to his lips. "Come in with me, please."

He nods against her forehead and catches her pleading gaze with his empathetic one. "Happy to, ma'am, but I want to read those Alice Paul pages you keep talking about."

She looks surprised for a brief moment before her smile grows and he feels as though he's staring directly into the sun. "Deal."

He spends the rest of the day casually lounging around with Lucy Preston. He reads what she's written of her book and it is, as he expected, brilliant. They alternate choosing movies on Netflix, though they barely watch them. He makes her dinner from the measly contents of her kitchen, and then forces himself to leave after. He has to track down a tuxedo still for this black tie New Years Eve party he agreed to go to.

By some miracle he manages it and finds himself knocking on Lucy's door at a few minutes before nine. He gets a text from after his second knock telling him there's a Hideakey rock in the planter next to the door and to let himself in. Not exactly the most secure idea in the world and he'll be addressing it with her later, but for now it works in his favor so he lets it go.

"Lucy?" He calls up the stairs. One breath in as he steps over the threshold and he can already smell her perfume drifting down the stairs. "You almost ready?"

He feels a sudden wave of nerves wrapped in anticipation as he waits for her answer. He knows he's never going to be prepared for whatever dress Lucy has chosen for the evening and he's afraid of his own reaction. There's a good chance he'll melt right where he stands as he waits at the bottom of the steps.

"Yes!" She calls back to him, still out of sight. "Can you get my coat out of the hall closet? The black one?"

"Got it," he said as he turns his back to the stairs and does as she asks.

He's draping the coat over his arm when he hears a throat clear behind him and freezes briefly. He takes a fortifying breath and turns to find the top of the stairs. He sucks in a breath and feels his eyes nearly widen to an impossible size. His mouth is agape. Somehow he manages to close it and gulp as Lucy places a hand on the railing and descends down the staircase.

The dress is slinky and black like she promised but she neglected to mention the off the shoulder straps and plunging neckline. There is so much of her creamy skin visible and all he wants do is slide his mouth over every inch of it.

She stops on the bottom step and rests her hands on his shoulders. His brain has short circuited and there's nothing between his ears but static as she smiles at him with crimson painted lips and cards a hand through his hair that is slicked to one side. That hand lands back on his shoulder for a gentle squeeze.

She winks and leans forward, bringing her lips to murmur against his ear. "2019 is going to start with you peeling this dress off of me, Soldier."

He quirks a brow at her and feels one corner of his mouth twist upward as the image of her black form fitting masterpiece landing in a gathering of satin at her feet springs to mind. It's a visual he's tempted to make happen right now in the entryway. Obligation to Stanford be damned. But she fixes him with a stern glance and shake of her head.

"Until then, this dress stays zipped up," she says as she pokes his chest pointedly. "You got that, Master Sergeant?"

The static in his brain clears enough for him to nod and reply, "Sure thing, ma'am."

He helps her put on her coat. He assumes once the coat is on his brain will resume functioning but he's wrong because the visual of her walking down those stairs is still firmly replaying across his mind, even as he pulls out of Carol Preston's driveway and sets out for a swanky hotel with an even swankier ballroom. This benefit is several hundred dollars a plate and has a silent auction attached. Lucy is the guest of honor, in place of her mother, and so the price per plate doesn't apply to her or her plus one. But every table is full, Wyatt notices as they enter the room. There's not an empty seat at an empty table anywhere. Apparently, a lot of people want to honor Carol Preston with dinner, dancing, and booze.

Lucy sighs while they walk arm in arm to their table and Wyatt turns a curious look on her.

"You okay?" He asks.

She leans toward him to whisper, "How many of these people do you think are or were Rittenhouse and how many of them are genuinely clueless? Do any of them know who she truly was? Or just the two of us?"

"The last thing I want to deal with tonight is Rittenhouse," Wyatt replies, just as quietly. "So let's hope they're all genuinely clueless."

Lucy nods her agreement and then a moment later her expression shifts. He can't quite tell what emotion crosses her face but he reads the eyeroll loud and clear.

"Heads up," she says as they reach their table. "There's a guy coming our way named Jonas Lyger. He's my old boss—"

"The jag off who denied you tenure?" Wyatt asks with a glare as he spots the man she's talking about.

She nods and then gives him a hesitant glance. Her teeth sink into her matte red bottom lip before she speaks again. "And also my ex. This timeline is a little different than mine so we weren't together as long here because of—"

"Noah," Wyatt finishes for her.

The less they talk about Noah the better. Whether he admits it or not, the idea that Lucy almost married someone else before he had a chance to get his shit together bothers him. It all could have ended right then and sometimes he wonders if Lucy would be better off if it had. She never would have gotten her heart broken by him if she had married the handsome doctor she didn't know.

"Right," Lucy confirms. "But we were together still at some point. I can't be certain but I suspect my ending things with him influenced my tenure meeting," she tells him through gritted teeth. "Just wanted you to be prepared."

"Oh, I've been prepared to face the dick that denied you tenure for a long time now, Luce," Wyatt informs her with a grin and a chuckle. "I'm good."

He spots the tiny smirk she tries to hide and winks at her. As Jonas closes in on them Wyatt pulls his arm from Lucy's to wrap it around her waist and pulls her into his side. He's not trying to be possessive, though he can tell by the look Lucy's shoots him that she thinks he is. He's trying to brag. Jonas let Lucy slip through his fingers, personally and professionally. Wyatt made a lot of mistakes with Lucy, but thankfully that didn't end up being one of them. So this Jonas jackass could eat his heart out. Wyatt was going to show him exactly what he was missing.

"This is gonna be fun," Wyatt mutters against Lucy's temple as he presses a kiss there.

"Lucy," Jonas says brightly as he comes to a stop in front of them. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," she agrees with a deceptively pleasant smile. "I think the last time I saw you was the night my tenure meeting was cancelled. How have you been?"

Wyatt bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

Jonas looks appropriately guilty before answering her question. "Good, you know, same as always. You?"

"Really good," she replies as she turns a genuine smile on Wyatt. "Jonas this is Wyatt Logan. Wyatt, this is my former boss, Jonas Lyger."

Wyatt reaches forward to shake hands with Jonas, making sure to keep his handshake firm. He tries not smirk when he releases Jonas' hand and the man has to flex his hand and give it a subtle shake.

"Good to meet you, Jonas," Wyatt says with a nod.

"Uh, yeah, you too," Jonas replies. Though he's not very convincing and immediately turns back to Lucy. "I've been calling you and you haven't returned my voicemails."

"Oh, right, sorry," she says as she feigns an apologetic glance. "I've been writing. And you know how I get when I'm—"

Jonas' smile turns fond as he interrupts her. "I remember. I had to force feed you take out once because you hadn't met your word count for the day."

Lucy laughs, a heartfelt soft laugh, and nods. "I remember that. You literally held a bite of food in front of my face until I stopped typing."

He shrugs modestly and grins at her. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Mostly because I was annoyed you wouldn't just leave me alone and let me write," she answers with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

Wyatt does not like the feeling that is clawing its way up his chest. He recognizes it as one of his most fatal flaws and tries his best to tamp it back down. Right now, it's a dull ember but he could easily fan the flame if he's not careful. That is not who he wants to be with Lucy. Or anyone. Ever again.

But the doubts and insecurities continue to nag him anyway. Sure, this thing with Jonas ended badly, but it didn't start that way. They were close once, very close. Jonas knows a side of Lucy that Wyatt hasn't really seen. He's read her writing but he's never sat and watched her work. He's watched her over extend herself but he's never been the one to pull her out of it. Hell, Jonas has had the privilege of watching Lucy teach and Wyatt didn't meet her till after that.

He's had her history lessons in his ear for the better part of two years, but he doesn't have the image of her lecturing a classroom of students to accompany it. He wishes he did.

"So, if you're writing," Jonas says as he gives Lucy a defeated look. "Does that mean you won't be coming back to Stanford?"

"I haven't decided yet," she tells him honestly. "I'm not sure it's where I belong anymore. It wasn't exactly a place that left me feeling like a highly valued professional, if you recall."

Jonas winces. "Yeah, about that…"

Lucy holds up a hand and smiles with all the false politeness she can muster. "Don't worry about it, Jonas. It is what it is." Wyatt feels one of Lucy's hands trail up his back while the other that she held up to Jonas comes to rest on his shoulder. "Besides, I've moved on personally since then and that probably means it's time to move on professionally as well."

"Right," Jonas says with a nod. His eyes turn hard and narrow on Lucy's hand as it rests on Wyatt's shoulder. His tone is hostile and it sets Wyatt on edge. His hand instinctively tightens on Lucy's waist as Jonas continues. "I'm sure there are other prestigious universities who want to hire a young untenured professor who just spent the last two years on a sabbatical she can't talk about. Good luck with that."

Wyatt chuckles and smirks at Jonas, his jealousy vanishing in an instant. Yes, Jonas and Lucy had history but this man is small and petty. That is becoming increasingly more obvious. With that last statement, Wyatt decides he's been quiet long enough.

"Lucy doesn't need luck. She's got about double the IQ points of both of us combined. She'll be fine," Wyatt tells Jonas with a derisive snort. "Stanford won't be though. I'm assuming there's a reason you're pursuing her so intently, and I would be willing to bet it's your superiors that want this more than you do. So, seems like you'll be the one needing luck when you tell them how royally you screwed this up."

He feels Lucy's eyes on him as he speaks, but doesn't dare look to read the emotions on her face. He motions to a waiter that's just entered the room and then the chairs that he and Lucy have yet to sit in. "If you'll excuse us, it looks like they're about to serve dinner. You might want to find your seat too."

Jonas hesitates for a moment as the muscles twitch in his jaw, as if there's one final comment dying to escape. It doesn't and he doesn't open his mouth again. He nods brusquely and then stomps away.

Lucy's gaze stays on Wyatt as he pulls back her chair for her and waits for her to sit down. She sits, holding her stare on him and following him as he sits too. He still can't bring himself to look at her. He's not sure if he overstepped or not. If he has he's not sure if he cares. Jonas is a dick just like Wyatt predicted he would be and he refuses to let anyone underestimate Lucy. He doesn't care how educated they supposedly are.

Once he's seated he feels Lucy's hand on his cheek. She turns his head to face her and before he even has a chance to ask her what she's thinking her lips press against his. Her hands frame his face as she draws him in closer. He kisses her back with equal fervor and marvels at how they even arrived at this moment to begin with. He never would have imagined a life where he deserved to have Lucy Preston kissing him this recklessly...or _publically_. He feels just the barest slip of her tongue as she leans away from the kiss and smiles serenely at him.

" _That_ was perfect," she gushes as her warm amber eyes meet his. She reaches out and wipes the lipstick from his bottom lip with her thumb. "You were perfect."

"Yeah, well, Jonas is a douchebag and someone had to say something," Wyatt replies with a modest shrug. His eyes fall on Jonas again as the idiot glares at them from across the room and he scoffs before turning a questioning glance on Lucy. "You really dated that small minded jackass?"

He expects some level of offense from her as soon as the words leave his mouth, but what he gets is a grin and a chuckle. "Unfortunately, I did. He didn't seem small minded at first. When we met he was a T.A. for one of my classes. He was older and on staff. It felt...dangerous. But after the feeling of danger went away he just seemed _dull_." She caresses his cheek with a small amused smile as she continues. "Don't think I didn't feel your jealousy back there, Wyatt. You went so rigid next to me that I thought you would be stuck that way."

He feels the cloud of guilt as he moves across his face. "Lucy, I'm—"

"It's okay," she tells him kindly. "There's a lot that we don't know about each other yet. There's a part of my life you've never seen. I know what that realization feels like. You don't have to explain that to me."

A night spent chasing Kennedy with Jessica in tow flashes across his mind along with snippets of a conversation about surfing, something he hasn't done in _years_. Something he only did to get away from Jessica to begin with. He grabs Lucy's hand and laces his fingers through hers before bringing the back of her hand to his lips.

"I want to learn everything about you that I possibly can, okay?" He declares with an earnest gaze.

She nods and then smooths a hand over his hair. "Okay. And as for Jonas, you have absolutely nothing to worry about," she promises. "You want to know why?"

He quirks a brow at her curiously and nods for her to continue.

"Because you're right. He _is_ a jag off."

A booming laugh escapes him the second the words 'jag off' leave Lucy Preston's lips. He laughs so loud that he attracts attention from the other people at their table and the surrounding tables. "God, I love you," he tells her as his laughter continues. He closes the little bit of distance between and steals a quick kiss. "You're perfect."

Dinner is served a moment later. While they eat speeches are made, Lucy is pointed out as the guest of honor, and a toast is made in Carol's memory. Through it all Lucy wears a gracious smile that he knows she doesn't feel. It never once reaches her eyes. Wyatt keeps himself angled toward her, grounding her there with him and preventing her from getting lost in her grief. As often as he can he finds a way to make sure that some part of him is in contact with her. His leg presses into hers, his arm goes around the back of her chair, his hand caresses her shoulder — anything he can do to assure her he's there.

After dinner the band starts to play and couples begin to go out on to the dance floor. He watches Lucy as she watches various people spinning around and he can see eagerness on her face. She wants to dance but she doesn't want to ask. He smiles to himself when she finally glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She's trying to be surreptitious and failing. Wyatt leans forward and presses a short kiss to Lucy's bare shoulder.

Before he speaks he sends up a silent prayer of thanks to whatever designer is responsible for the milky expanse of shoulders and sternum he's been a witness to all night.

"Dance with me," he asks her quietly.

She brings her gaze to meet his but doesn't turn her head. She nods demurely, as if she's embarrassed to be caught wishing for something instead of making it happen, and then slips her hand in his. When they reach the dance floor he spins her with a wink and a flourish. She laughs and swats at his arm as he reels her back in. One of her hands is on his shoulder while he holds the other in his and his hand rests on her waist. He knows she has questions because he can see them written across her face. He's too good of a dancer for someone who's never asked her to dance.

"Smooth, Mr. Logan," she says with a suspicious grin. "Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"My grandmother," he answers with a modest lift of his shoulder. "She used to make me dance with her in her kitchen while we listened to Glenn Miller records."

"Oh, your grandmother and I would have gotten along splendidly," Lucy states with a gleeful grin. "The only things I plan on keeping from my mother are her records. Well, with one exception. There was this one song she made me listen to while I studied for my AP European History final...that record goes in the trash."

"My grandmother would have loved you. I know she would. If she were here I would definitely be listening to an I told you so lecture. She tried to tell me those kitchen dance lessons would come in handy. But I still acted like I hated it," Wyatt admits with a sheepish smile. "In actuality without those little moments with her I don't think I'd even know what a mother is supposed to be."

His confession weighs heavy in the air around them but Lucy's understanding gaze assures him she doesn't mind. After all, hadn't they just admitted to wanting to know more about each other?

"I wish I could meet your grandparents," Lucy confesses softly as he feels her thumb idly rubbing across his. "I'd like to thank them for helping make you who you are right now. Honestly, I—I don't know where I'd be without you, Wyatt, and I don't want to find out. _Ever_."

He's about to respond when he feels a tap on his shoulder. His eyes connect with Lucy's just in time to see her face drain of all color and her eyes bulge to the size of saucers. Wyatt turns to look out of sheer curiosity and fights an irritated huff at the tall, dark, and chiseled figure standing behind him.

For his part, Noah flashes Wyatt a shiteatting grin that makes Wyatt want to punch him in the face.

"May I cut in?" Noah asks as he glances between Wyatt and Lucy.

Wyatt is close to telling Noah where he can shove his ridiculous question but he's saved by Lucy squeezing Wyatt's shoulder comfortingly. That quiets him long enough for Lucy to speak up for herself.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Noah," Lucy replies honestly.

"Yeah, well, I didn't think it was a good idea to patch up a random guy in the middle of a warehouse in Oakland, but I seem to recall doing it anyway," Noah declares with a bored expression and biting aggression.

"That's really not helping you win any points, man," Wyatt warns. He doesn't like Noah's tone or the blatant manipulation he just threw at Lucy.

Noah ignores Wyatt and focuses a glare on Lucy. "You remember what I asked you that night?"

Lucy's brow furrows and her eyes find the floor before bouncing from Wyatt back to Noah. "Yes."

"Was _this_ happening then?" He asks as he motions between Wyatt and Lucy. "Did you lie to me? And where the hell have you been all this time?"

"Can we _not_ talk about this here and now?" Lucy pleads as her eyes nervously glance around the room.

People are staring at their huddle in the middle of the dance floor and noticing the anger radiating off of Noah. This entire room knows who Lucy is and probably Noah too based on what Wyatt remembers of an engagement party Lucy missed back when they first met. Noah's face softens at the panicked edge to Lucy's voice and Wyatt actually sees it. He sees Noah's love for Lucy, or the Lucy he knew, surface in the man's eyes. He nods and then glances over to a darkened corner of the room.

"Can we talk? Alone?"

Lucy eyes him carefully for a long moment and then says, "we can talk, but not alone. Wyatt comes too."

Relief fills his chest and Wyatt expels a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. Noah may seem like a nice guy, but even angry nice guys can be dangerous. And Noah is certainly _pissed_.

"Of course he does," Noah replies with a dark chuckle. "Fine. Over there." Noah points to the corner he noticed earlier and strides through the dance floor toward it.

Lucy grabs Wyatt's hand as they both follow him. "I'm sorry," she says with a brow furrowed in worry. "I didn't even think that he might be here."

Wyatt squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile. "No apology needed, ma'am."

"But this is just so awkward and not at all where I saw the evening going. I mean what's next? Is my high school boyfriend going interupt us before the midnight kiss?" She asks him dryly. "Can we go back to the Bunker where I know exactly who I'm going to see every moment of every day?"

He chuckles and brings her hand to his lips. Considering the jealousy he felt earlier with Jonas he's surprised by the amusement bubbling its was up his throat. But he knows Lucy had no connection with Noah. She doesn't remember the life they had together. Noah does, though, and he's still obviously in love with Lucy Preston. Wyatt can hardly blame him for that.

"Just tell him as much of the truth as you can," Wyatt assures her. "You'll be fine."

They stop when they're far enough away from prying eyes and ears and Noah turns to give Lucy an expectant look.

"So, how long has this been happening?" Noah asks as he glares at Wyatt and Lucy's joined hands.

"Um, well, officially?" Lucy asks as she self consciously lets go of Wyatt's hand. Noah nods. "Just over a week. Unofficially, a lot longer than that."

"So, you did end things with us because of him," Noah says with a scoff and a chuckle.

"No," Lucy replies firmly. "I ended things with us because we weren't right for each other, Noah. Yes, okay? Wyatt factored in, but back then I never actually thought anything would happen with him. All I knew was that it wasn't fair to keep you attached to me when I was falling in love with someone else. I couldn't string you along like that."

"Seems to me like you were already stringing me along or did you conveniently forget that night at your mother's place?"

Somewhere in Wyatt's mind those words pull a pin in a grenade and now it's up to him to hold that damn thing closed as tight as he can. One slip in his grip and it'll all blow up in his face.

His jaw tightens and he sees the contempt on Noah's face. The other man's glare is fully focused on Lucy. While she stands completely still frozen to her spot. She's quickly turning a dark shade of red with a never-seen-before mix of mortification and horror playing across her face. She's been utterly blindsided by the depths of Noah's resentment and if it wasn't for Wyatt's desperate grip on the grenade in his brain he would reach for her.

Lucy's mouth is agape and it moves up and down before she manages a trembling breath and nods. "Wow. Okay. Yeah, that—that was a mistake. Thank you for validating how _collosal_ a mistake it truly was."

"If you thought it was a mistake back then I saw no signs of it," Noah said with a twisted grin and a shrug. "I'm fairly certain that you were enjoying yourself."

Her hands cover her face for a moment and when she pulls them away Wyatt can see tears gathering in her eyes. He can't tell if they're from anger or hurt, but it doesn't really matter. His fists clench all the same.

"That's enough," Wyatt says through a tense jaw. He reflexively puts himself between Noah and Lucy. His urge to protect Lucy overrules everything else, as it always has. He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Noah. This was quickly spiraling into the ridiculous. "You know, for a brief moment I felt for you, Doc, but not anymore. She's explained it plenty. Time for you to accept it and go."

Noah's anger snaps from Lucy to Wyatt in a blink. He rolls his eyes at Wyatt and lets out a derisive snort. "My life went to shit the minute you showed up. You expect me to believe the two of you weren't fucking behind my ba-"

Wyatt interrupts him with a dangerous smirk and a loud scoff. "Fuck you, man."

He is not going to make those insinuations about Lucy. Lucy is too good and too kind to be guilty of what he is accusing her of.

As for the woman in question, her face is still red and her eyes are glossy and besides that they're in the corner of a very public ballroom. No one had noticed them yet, but they would. Wyatt is set to lead her away for some space and some fresh air and much needed talk of their own when Noah opens up his damn mouth yet again.

"Lucy already did."

Every muscle in his body reacts to that quip in an instant. He's ready to strike. The idea of shoving Noah's face into the ballroom's hardwood floor seems awfully tempting until he feels Lucy's small hand on his bicep.

"Let it go, Wyatt," she whispers as she catches his livid gaze with her watery one. "Please."

His puffed up stance deflates and the bravado disappears. This is a room full of Lucy's professional peers - people who could hinder the career she's trying to rebuild. Fighting it out with Noah here and now would only hurt her. And she's been through enough as it is. He still has concerns and questions. The pin is by no means back in the grenade, but for now Lucy's comfort supersedes the jealousy bubbling in his chest.

He doesn't stop her when Lucy steps around him to be face to face with Noah again. He's afraid that if he moves his fist will end up embedded in Noah's face.

Lucy meets Noah's eyes with a regretful sigh and tries to explain one last time. A valiant if not useless effort.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Noah, that was not my intention. That's why I had to end it. I'm not the Lucy you knew and I _wish_ I could explain why, but I can't," Lucy tells him. She speaks slowly and takes a deep calming breath at the end of each sentence. He knows for certain she's fighting off tears. "That's the actual reason I called it off, but believe what you want. I can't stop you."

Noah opens his mouth to speak again. Wyatt can see the anger in the other man's eyes and knows better than to let him say another word.

Wyatt gently pulls Lucy back to him and shakes his head at Noah. "We're done. You're done talking. And let me be clear, the only reason I'm being this _polite_ is because we're at a _charity_ event. I'd love to wipe the floor with you, here and now, but _I'm_ not the kind of guy who ambushes someone in a public place."

His hand finds Lucy's back and he leads her out onto the open terrace. The air is freezing but he instinctively knows she'll prefer that to the stuffy thick tension awaiting them inside. He walks with his hand pressed to the small of her back until they reach the furthest corner of the terrace.

"You okay?" He asks as he slips off his tuxedo jacket and drops it on to her bare shoulders.

She sniffles and scrubs a hand across her face before giving him a flat look. "Your turn, I guess."

"My turn for what?" He asks in confusion.

"To pile on. All the other men in my life have. Might as well make it three for three."

"That's not fair," he replies with an expression that must be as equally shocked and hurt as he feels.

Her eyes narrow into a glare like she's just waiting for him to fly off the handle. A part of him wants to. There's a part of him that is pumping with anger and adrenaline that desperately wants to let go of the grenade. Wyatt never would have guessed Lucy had gotten so intimate with Noah. The knowledge unsettles him and creates a niggling doubt. It contributes to his insecurities from earlier about missing so many parts of her life. And this was a part of her life they talked about. It was an area he _thought_ he was well informed on.

Obviously not.

Another part of him is offended she lumped him in with men like Jonas and Noah. Surely she knows him better than that and at least knows how he feels about her. Yes, he is—or was—a jealous man, but what happened tonight goes beyond that. Noah crossed every line. That was a verbal attack if Wyatt had ever witnessed one and Lucy never deserves that.

But she must not agree with him because she continues to watch him with wary expectant eyes as she slips her arms into the sleeves of his jacket.

"Come on. Have at it," she says before she lowers her voice in a poor imitation of him. "Did you even bother to learn his last name before jumping into bed with him?" She drops the impression and laughs bitterly at herself. "No, no actually I didn't."

He bites back a wince. He could have done without knowing that particular detail. "Lucy," he says softly as he reaches for her shoulders.

She takes a step back and shakes her head at him. "I know what you're going to say."

"No, you don't," Wyatt says sternly with an irritated huff. He is done letting her assume the worst. "That back there," he tells her as he points to the doors they just exited. "Was uncalled for and you deserved none of it. So, I don't know what this attitude you have now is, but I wish you'd drop it. I'm not Noah or Jonas. I'm not going to take my frustrations out on you. I've done that in the past and I'll be damned if I ever do it again. Am I pissed? Hell yes. I'm pissed at Noah, I'm pissed at Jonas, I'm pissed at your mother for being the reason we have to be here to begin with, but I'm not pissed at _you_. How could I be? You didn't do anything wrong."

Her brow furrows at him in disbelief. "I slept with Noah, Wyatt. I know you. You can't approve of that."

He closes his eyes tightly, breathes in through his nose, and then exhales through his mouth, slowly, to get a handle on the red that briefly flashes across his vision. He doesn't need the reminder. It's hard to forget. But why? Does it really matter? Why exactly does it bother him when she's there _with him_. She's clearly not interested in Noah, or Jonas either for that matter. So what the hell is he jealous of? That Noah got to be with Lucy one time after he was already in the process of falling for her? If so, that is monumentally _stupid_. He's mishandled things with Lucy before and he's sure he will again but _this_...this will not be one of those things. He will not be the same jealous asshole Jessica turned him into.

That guy was a dick.

"I am hardly the person anyone looks to for approval, Luce." He tells her with a self deprecating grin. He's made too many mistakes to be able to judge anyone on anything.

"I do," Lucy admits with a barely audible whisper.

That sentiment knocks him for a loop for a moment. Because... _how? Why?_ She wants his approval? She's a better person than he is so surely his opinion means very little. He's done many things that he can never truly make up for and she wants to know what _he_ thinks of _her_? Even at that, how can she think that she _wouldn't_ have his approval already? A conversation in a police station in 1919 comes back to him in vivid color as soon as he asks himself that question. She tore him a new one then so he really thought she'd brushed him off, but what if she hadn't? His shock fades as he realizes he's let several moments of silence pass between them. Idiot, _say something_.

"You have it," he assures her as he finds her eyes. They're shining with unshed tears in the moonlight and his heart lurches. Why is he such a jackass? Why couldn't he have measured his reaction back then? It's his fault that she doesn't see it. His fault that she doesn't already know that there is nothing she could do, past or present, that would change his opinion of her. Since day one she has impressed the hell out of him and she always will. "Always. Not even a question."

"Even after—"

He can't let her finish that question because it's ridiculous she even thinks it. So he cuts her off before the full thought is spoken out loud. "A douchebag ex-boyfriend or two won't change that. _Ever_. I'm jealous. I'll admit to that, but I'm not stupid. I remember what I was like then. What _we_ were like."

He reaches for her again and this time she lets him. His hands find her shoulders and slide down the sleeves of her borrowed jacket before finding Lucy's hands and interlocking their fingers together.

He makes sure to keep his gaze on hers as he continues. "I was an idiot living in denial and desperately trying to remember my wife as I wished she was. I fought my feelings for you constantly and it was legitimately the stupidest thing I ever did. I don't know how that went down with Noah or when and I don't care. Being jealous doesn't mean I have the _right_ to be. The truth is, you and I were just friends at the time and you were _engaged_ to him. You didn't owe me anything then and you don't owe me anything now either. None of what's happened tonight is on you. Jonas and especially Noah decided to be low life sons of bitches all on their own."

He pulls her to him, until they're pressed chest to chest and wraps his arms around her. It takes a moment but she returns the embrace and peers up at him in surprise. She genuinely thought he would be pissed at her and he can't really blame her. Not with their history. Not with what she knows about all of his mistakes. But he refuses to let history repeat itself this time around. Lucy is different from anyone else and because of that he will be too. She deserves the best he has to offer at all times.

"As for how I feel about you, Professor Preston," he continues as he feels a fond smile stretch across his face.

He removes one hand from the small of her back to brush his fingers across her cheek. He feels unbridled affection unfurl in his chest and everything else he was feeling fades away. This moment, with her, is all that matters.

"Well, you're _Lucy Preston_. Our first mission you held up Nazis with a kitchen knife. You called me out on my bullshit. You challenged and frustrated me. I didn't know I needed that. And since then you've stood up to your own family, suffered losses that I wish like hell I could fix for you, faced down death at The Alamo and in North Korea and countless other places in time, you saved me and Rufus after _you were kidnapped_ \- you're brilliant and fearless and a force of nature. I meant what I said to you after 1919. You're Lucy Preston and _that's pretty damn good_. There is no goddamn way that some self absorbed asshat ex of yours could erase the person that I _know_ you to be. You are the most impressive person I have ever met and that's just an unchanging law of the universe, ma'am."

"An unchanging law of the universe?" She asks with a weak grin. "Really?"

"I'm serious," he insists.

Her eyes are still shining with tears as she lets out a watery laugh and then turns her head to kiss the hand that's still caressing her cheek. "God, I love you."

"I love you too," he replies with a smile before he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. "That's also an unchanging law of the universe, by the way."

"How many unchanging laws of the universe have to do with how you feel about me?" She asks him teasingly.

He narrows his eyes in playful thought before bringing his eyes back to hers and nodding slowly. "All of them."

"Oh? Is that so? Cause you know the universe is a bit bigger than just you and me," she tells him with a quirked brow.

"Is it though?" He asks. "Because most days I have hard time noticing anyone or anything other than you."

She rolls her eyes but the blinding smile she gives him contradicts any possible irritation. "Wow, talk about a line. Does that normally work for you?"

"Don't know," he tells her with a shrug and a lopsided smirk. "Never used it on anyone other than you. You tell me. Did it work?"

She bites her bottom lip as the corners of her mouth turn upward and her cheeks flush pink. "Maybe a little."

His gaze drifts back to the terrace doors. The idea of going back into that room is extremely unappealing. All he wants is time alone with her. "Do you think you've made enough of an appearance? Will it send your career into a nosedive if we leave right now?"

She grabs his wrist with his watch on it and angles it so she can read it. "Forty minutes till midnight? I think we're good. All the ridiculous speeches and toasts are done. They've gotten proper use out of the Preston name so I'd say we're free to go. Besides, given my luck so far tonight, I'm afraid if we stay Michael Garrison will show up and somehow blame _me_ for _him_ not taking me to his senior prom."

"Michael Garrison sounds like a dick," Wyatt tells her with an amused grin.

"Yes, thank you, I've always thought so," Lucy replies as she tosses him a smirk.

Wyatt's habit of instinctively searching for exits in every room pays off when he spots a set of stairs leading from the terrace down to the street. The coat check is in the lobby which should be at the bottom of those stairs. It's a perfect escape that prevents them from entering that ballroom ever again.

"Come on," he requests as he takes her hand in his and leads them toward the staircase. "This way."

"I ever tell you how much I love your ability to find an exit _anywhere_ we go?"

He chuckles as she falls into step beside of him and shifts their hands so their fingers lace together. "No, but it's nice to know I'm appreciated."

Ten minutes later, they've got their coats and are well on their way back to the Preston house. Twenty five minutes after that they pull in the driveway and manage to make it back with five minutes to spare. If they're both honest, this is all they wanted for New Years Eve. To be alone together.

The best thing to come from the night so far is Lucy's dress and he's reminded of that again when she sheds her coat as they walk in the door. It's a masterpiece of satin and beads and strategic dips. It emphasizes her slight frame and ivory complexion like nothing he's seen her in before. He's once again drawn to the expanse of bare skin that the plunging neckline and off the shoulder straps put on display. She's captivatingly gorgeous. Almost too classically beautiful to be real.

And she's still here.

It was a shit show of a night and at any moment either of them could have run, but they didn't. They made it home together as in love with each other as they were when they left. Hell, maybe more so if that's possible. He's not sure if it is, but his heart certainly feels fuller than it did before. Maybe it's because another part of his past fell away tonight or because he managed to sooth a wound he caused too long ago. Either way, he knows he and Lucy have made positive progress tonight and he has faith they'll keep making progress.

There's no one else he wants aside from Lucy Preston. No one else that could make him as happy as she does. No one else that he'd rather navigate exes and career choices and selling real estate with than her. He wants a crazy ordinary wonderful life and he only wants it _with her._

It's that thought that has him backing her into the nearest wall, with his arms boxing her in on either side. He points a crooked smirk at her and checks his watch. "Two minutes," he says as he leans forward and nudges his nose against hers.

"Till midnight?" She asks expectantly.

He shakes his head before placing a slow kiss to her lips.

"Then what?" She asks breathlessly as he pulls away.

"Until 2019, and if you recall 2019 is supposed to start with me taking this dress off of you," he states with a rakish grin. "That is what you said, isn't it?"

"I see," she replies through a low chuckle. "And you plan on holding me to that, I assume."

He presses one kiss to the hinge of her jaw and then dips to trail even lower. His lips slide across the curve of her neck in a series of heated kisses before he's eye level with her again. "Oh, I am definitely holding you to it."

Her normally clear chocolate eyes are hazy and dark when he catches them with his. Her eyes drift over his shoulder to the clock he knows is hanging on the wall and then come back to his with a mischievous twinkle. "One minute," she informs him.

He removes one hand from the wall to rest on her waist and then skims it up her back until he finds the tiny tab of her zipper. "Oh, I'm ready," he says with a wink.

She laughs loudly and then brings her head to rest on his shoulder for a moment. The laugh floats around them and he feels as though it finds a permanent home in his heart. He never makes New Years Resolutions. Usually, they're nothing but empty promises, but he makes an exception this year. In that moment as he listens to Lucy laugh and feels her head against his shoulder he resolves to make more memories like this one. Happy and warm and full of promise.

She lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his eyes. He feels her hands lightly trace up his arms until they come to rest on his shoulders. Slowly, they slink back and slip into the hair at the base of his skull.

"Do you think we're really ready for 2019?" She asks. "It's a literal fresh start for us."

"I think," he pauses and takes a breath, giving her a thoughtful look as he does. "...that if we can face down Nazis and the Chinese army and come back in one piece then we're ready for anything. Including a little bit of normalcy."

"Normalcy?" She asks as she pretends to be clueless. "I don't think I know what that word means."

"Me either," he tells her with a chuckle. "How about we find out together?"

She raises her eyebrows at him and smiles brightly. He watches her closely as she nods and then sighs contentedly. "There is nothing I'd like more." Her eyes shift again to the clock on the wall and then back to him. "Happy New Year, Wyatt."

"Happy New Year, Lucy," he replies.

True to his word he grips the zipper tab between his thumb and forefinger and tenderly slides it downward. He leans forward and presses his lips to her shoulder. He kisses a path over her bare shoulders and collar bone and then upward to the curve of her neck before his lips finally land on the sensitive spot just below her ear. She sucks in a breath as he lets himself take in the taste of her. The zipper reaches the end of it's track and those off the shoulder straps are truly off her shoulders. One of his hands ambles up her spine until it comes to rest on the back of her neck.

He slides his lips upward and murmurs against her ear. "Here's to 2019 and _you_."

He gives the straps of the dress a little push as she straightens her arms at her sides and, just as he imagined earlier in the evening, it lands in a gathering of black satin at her feet. Leaving Lucy in nothing but lacy black underwear.

She tightens her arms around him and seals her lips to his, tracing her tongue across his bottom lip. He surrenders and lets her lead the kiss. His hands find the underside of her thighs and lift. She lets out a startled squeak against his mouth but wraps her legs around his waist without a moment's hesitation. She pulls back to press her forehead to his and bores her starry heated gaze into his.

"Here's to 2019 and _you_ ," she says, repeating his words back to him. "It's gonna be our year. Just you watch."

"I believe you," he says with a sincere smile and for the first time in along time smiling feels completely natural. When he's with her, he can't help it. "I believe in _us_."

"Good," she tells him. Her lips spread into a sultry grin before she kisses him again. "Upstairs, Schweetheart," she says against his lips. "Now."

"Whatever you say, Babydoll," he answers as he laughs into the kiss.

She was right. 2019 would be their year.

The first of _many_.


End file.
